


Epicure

by pixie_rings



Series: Per Ardua Ad Astra [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Oral Sex, POV is all over the place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:44:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8039335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixie_rings/pseuds/pixie_rings
Summary: Some things are meant to be savoured.





	Epicure

**Author's Note:**

> HA! PORN!

He starts with a kiss, long, passionate, that leaves her slightly breathless.

Usually, she prefers everything to be reciprocated. Lovemaking is a two person affair, satisfaction for only one party is simply _wrong_ , but he's asked her for this. “Let me take care of you,” he'd said, voice low, and she'd shivered in anticipation and opened her arms to him. There is something in the air, some taut string of tension she cannot quite hear the note of, and it's making her heart fast and her breath quick.

“Keep your hands on the bed,” he'd said, kissing her palms, pressing her hands firmly to the sheets. She does, fingers twitching, palms burning from his lips.

At first, he is slow. He presses his lips to every inch of her neck, dragging the edge of his teeth over her skin, dipping his tongue into the hollow of her throat. He kisses between her breasts, his hands on them, kneading, his weight nothing to her. He thumbs her nipples, she gasps, he circles one areola with his tongue, tormenting her, never _quite_ where she needs him.

“Stop teasing,” she hisses.

“As you wish,” he replies, voice low, a rumble that goes right through her as a pleasant shiver, and there's teeth on sensitive flesh, not hard, but sharp. She practically squeaks, her knees jerking, and he has the gall – and skill – to chuckle as he tongues her nipple, flicking the other with his forefinger.

He spends forever there, at her breasts, dedicating his mouth to each one almost methodically, until her head is spinning and her cunt is _aching_ , neglected between her legs.

“Shi _ro_ ,” she whines, wrapping her legs around him, clenching her fists so she doesn't move them. She so wants to touch, to use her strength to get him moving any way possible, she wants to trace the contours of his body because she _loves_ it, loves _touching_ him, but... she doesn't. Some part of her wants to just surrender, to allow him to just do what he likes. He so rarely makes requests, she can give him this.

He mercifully stops his ministrations, raising his head. His pupils are blown, his lips swollen, his cheeks flushed, and he's gazing at her as if she is the headiest wine and he is drunk on her. But he makes no other move, and she is impatient. She's so wet, so needy, she'll take anything, at this point.

“Please, my love...” she begs. He sucks the skin next to her navel, humming.

Making her slowly fall apart until she can't stand it anymore is something he's longed to do for a while. He's seen glimpses, tantalising snatches of how it could be when she's raw and open, completely wrecked, but he's never quite gotten her there: she's too much of a master of herself. But right now, he has a plan, something that will send her off the edge and beyond until she can barely remember her own name. She does it to him all the time, breaking him and remaking him in so many beautiful ways, it's only right he give back as good as he gets.

He slides further down, his hands parting her thighs, his mouth never leaving her skin, burying his face in the silver curls on her mound and breathing in, the scent of her arousal heavy. He doesn't go down on her straight away, though. No, he heads further back, to the bend of her knee. He kisses her skin, each one a little harder as her leaves a trail of them down her thigh, until he's sucking on her flesh, nibbling bruises into it, licking the sparks of mixed-pleasure and discomfort away.

She whimpers when he does exactly the same to her other thigh. She's so impatient, she needs him so badly, needs whatever he wants to give her. There is a void inside her, and only he can fill it. She squirms unhappily.

“Shiro, _please_ ,” she whines, fingers twitching. If she has to force him down on her, she will, at this point. He chuckles, low and dark, against the where her thigh meets her hip.

He licks his lips, slips two fingers along her folds, parting them, exposing her. He presses his tongue to her, tastes her, and she moans, arching into it.

He takes that as encouragement, and sets his mouth to her.

He knows exactly what he's doing when he does this to her, his lips and tongue working to steadily drive her higher and higher. He flattens his tongue against her, slides up to her clit, sucks it into his mouth, slowly shifting between his lips and his tongue.

She moans, fists clenching, cheek pressed into the pillow. He knows perfectly well how to play her like an instrument, what she likes, how she reacts to every little thing he does to her. She's had plenty of lovers, but the satisfaction of having someone know her so _intimately_ is something she's never had before, and she would be lying if she said she didn't love it, love how he's memorised her body as well as his own. As he rolls her clit with his tongue, languid, almost painfully teasing, he slips a finger, just one, inside her. He begins stroking inside her, and adds another finger, feeling her tighten around him instinctively.

His pace quickens, his tongue flickering over her, fingers fast, until her voice is a steady crescendo of gasping moans. He presses up with his fingers, sucking hard on her clit, humming around his mouthful, sending a wave of pleasure through her. With a drawn-out cry, the curve of her back rising from the bed, she comes, trembling, pulsing around his fingers.

He doesn't relent, however. As the high subsides, instead of letting her down gently, he keeps going, his tongue unforgiving. Instead of settling, she's rocketed back up again, gasping for breath, eyes wide but unseeing, every part of her conscious focused on her clit and her cunt. His fingers leave her, until it's just his mouth making her dizzy.

She flails, grips the sheets, desperate for an anchor, anything, as he continues to eat her out, his chuckle reverberating up her spine from her centre. She whimpers, trembles beneath his onslaught, unable to resist. Her cunt feels almost confused, caught between pleasure and a sharper edge, overwhelmed by it all. She wants to close her legs, but he holds them open, gentle but firm, both hands firebrands on her skin.

He ignores the ache in his jaw and the base of his tongue: he just wants to see her completely and utterly undone. He loves it when she's a mess, her hair all over the place, her skin slick, her face flushed... she's beyond beautiful. And he loves knowing that he can bring her to that brink, that place where doesn't have to hold on all the time, where she can break apart and someone is there to catch her.

He lets go of one of her legs and his hand goes to his own cock, so hard he's dripping on the sheets, and the precome slicks the way as he begins to strip himself desperately. Her free leg hooks over his shoulder, her thigh pressed to his cheek, smooth and burning hot. He slips his tongue inside her, his mouth full of her coppery taste, his ears full of her keening moans, her plaintive mewls of his name. He's never savoured anything finer, he thinks.

“Shiro...” She draws out the final 'o', reality reduced to stormtossed pieces of her over-sensitive core, and he is the hurricane. He delves into her, she cries out, he retreats and draws her clit back between his lips, his teeth soft but still _there_ , his tongue driving her insane. Her legs are practically vibrating, her head thrashes, she can feel the tension building inside her, ricocheting up and down her spine. Her body is a mass of exposed nerve endings, everything leading back to his mouth and how he's devouring her like a starving man.

When she comes it's an earthquake, her whole body shuddering with the waves of her clenching orgasm, unbearable ecstasy, as he tenses and groans against her. She collapses back on the bed, unable to do anything but gasp for breath, still quivering, and watch as Shiro finally pulls back and licks his glistening lips. He looks almost triumphant as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark as they meet hers.

“You're terrible,” she slurs, catching her lip between white teeth. With a shaking hand she lazily beckons him up, and he smiles against her lips, sharing her taste with her.

“You're beautiful like this,” he rasps, gazing at her as if she holds all of life's answers. Her face heats up: she feels decidedly unkempt, still trying to gather herself together after falling apart so completely. He kisses the tip of her nose, her chin, her cheekbones, her forehead, his lips gently brushing her, no pressure, and settles beside her, propped up on his elbow.

“Do you need...?” she enquires, finding enough strength to run her knuckles down his chest, to his navel and the trail of hair that heads lower, sifting her fingers through the thick hair at the base of his cock. He flushes at that, clears his throat.

“Um... no. No, I'm good.”

She looks down, sees him flaccid, pouts somewhat. “Next time, do save something for me,” she says, and he splutters, his cheeks burning. It delights her to see how he can go from smouldering and self-assured to a blushing mess in a matter of minutes.

Though her limbs are like goo she rolls over, snuggles against him and away from the decidedly wet patch on the sheets. He folds his arms around her, nuzzling her temple, the familiar contrast of warm skin and cool metal making twin lines across her back. Her own arms wind around his waist, settling at the small of his back, and she breathes in the scent of his skin as her eyelids flutter drowsily.

She will, most certainly, return the favour when she feels less content to merely drift to sleep in his arms.


End file.
